


baby, you got the keys now shut up and drive

by sodium_amytal



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, PWP, Revenge Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/pseuds/sodium_amytal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse looks over at Saul, a smoky smile on his lips. "Mr. White thinks he owns me. So we're gonna fuck right here, in the first place Mr. White and I ever cooked, to show him he doesn't own shit."</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, you got the keys now shut up and drive

"What the hell are we doing here?" Saul asks from the passenger seat of his Cadillac. Just because Jesse's his boyfriend doesn't mean he has carte blanche to drive them into the middle of the fucking desert and just  _stop_  like they're going to get out and dig for fossils. Saul regrets giving Jesse driving privileges now. The least he could do is pay for gas.

Jesse looks over at him, a smoky smile on his lips. " _We_  are gonna get back at Mr. White for bein' a dick."

"What did he do now?" Saul wonders if he even wants an answer to that question. Walter White has no business being a part of their relationship. "Or is this payback for his overall douchebaggery?"

"He thinks Mike's usin' me, that I'm not really—"

"Whoa, wait.  _My_  Mike? Dead-mackerel-eyes Mike?"

Jesse does that squinty thing when the sun cuts into his line of sight. "Yeah?"

"You're making time with a guy who threatened to break my legs?" Saul feels like that's a slight conflict of interests. "What're you doin' with him anyway?"

Jesse shrugs. "We pick up money, check on things. Stuff like that. I guard him."

Saul lifts an eyebrow. "Impressive."

"I saved Mike from gettin' robbed, even killed, maybe," Jesse beams, but his eager expression soon falls into something angry and pained. "But Mr. White just thinks it's all a set-up, that I'm just some junkie loser." He spits the words out like bloody teeth. Saul lays a hand over Jesse's own. "Asshole thinks he owns me. So we're gonna fuck right here, in the first place Mr. White and I ever cooked, to show him he doesn't own shit."

Saul's not opposed to sex with Jesse—it's his favorite pasttime—but he's been on the other end of revenge-sex, and it sucks. "He's not gonna know about it, is he?"

"No. But we'll know." Jesse shoots Saul another flirty smile as he leans in closer, his voice low and full of dirty promises. "Every time he comes into your office and tries to act like he's the boss, you can just think about how I begged for your cock in the place where we started cookin'."

"I feel like this would be more effective if he knew about it."

Jesse stares at him. "Dude, are you actually trying to talk your way out of sex right now?"

Saul opens his mouth, closes it, because, yeah, that's basically what he's doing here. He should shut the fuck up and let Jesse do whatever the hell he wants.

"C'mon, you know he's done some awful shit to both of us that we don't know about," Jesse continues. "He probably, like, spit in your coffee or something and feels all smug that you never found out."

"Kind of a disproportionate retribution, isn't it?"

Jesse sighs like Saul is the absolute worst. "God, just shut up and fuck me."

Yeah, that's good advice.

"Get in the back," Jesse orders, and Saul does as he's told. Jesse watches him slide into the back seat through the door. "Why didn't you just climb over?"

"Because I wasn't raised in the jungle?"

Jesse scoffs and rolls his eyes in a particularly dramatic way. He kicks the radio up a bit before fishing the bottle of lube out of the console and crawling between the seats. Saul's always found Jesse's taste in music questionable at best, but this one sounds languid and smooth, like a song you could have sex to. Jesse drops into his lap and covers Saul's mouth with his own, hands curled around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Jesse's mouth tastes like cinnamon ash.

Saul pushes his hands into Jesse's jeans, palming the curve of his ass. Jesse makes a contented sound around the kiss. Saul's fingers slip the button open, then he's edging the denim over Jesse's hips. Jesse's already kicking off his shoes and peeling off his socks. He wiggles out of his jeans by the time they're loose around his thighs. Saul reaches up and draws Jesse's t-shirt over his head. He lays kisses over Jesse's chest, opens his mouth around a nipple, and Jesse gasps and arches into Saul's mouth when Saul takes the nub between his teeth. Jesse's tattooed hand knots in Saul's hair as he moves in his lap. Saul's tempted to push a hand into Jesse's shorts and jerk him off, but he squeezes Jesse's hip instead and presses kisses over his collarbone.

Saul slides down in the seat a bit, and Jesse comes with him, his knees on either side of Saul's hips. Saul's got more room now to spread his legs, and Jesse's perched in his lap so that his cock's pressed against Saul's own. Saul's hands keep shifting over Jesse's bare skin, fingers pressing into sinews and muscle. Jesse grinds his hips back, and, oh, that's good. Saul makes a choked noise. Jesse dips his head down to kiss him again, his fingers tugging at Saul's tie before giving up and just working on his belt. Saul hooks his fingers in the elastic of Jesse's shorts, dragging them down his hips. Jesse's thighs flex as he rises up, just enough to work his way out of his underwear and get Saul's belt unlatched. Jesse's naked now, and Saul just has to touch him, hands settling on Jesse's hips and grazing his thumbs over the jutting bones there. Jesse bucks into the touch and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth when he groans.

Saul gropes blindly for the bottle on the seat beside him. He manages to get his fingers wet enough to push one inside of Jesse, and that's when Jesse's voice just stops working, all breath and pieces of words. "Fuck—that's—God..." Jesse shoves his hips back, needing more than Saul can give with his hands alone. Saul adds another finger, strokes over his entrance in slow circles, and Jesse yanks impatiently at the button of Saul's pants, a ripple of pleasure making his body tense. Saul's other hand can't help but pinch the tip of Jesse's dick, because, Christ, it's right  _there_ , and Jesse writhes and sucks in a breath through his teeth.

"Shit—don't—I wanna..." Jesse breathes out, cracked and helpless as he tugs Saul's cock out of his boxers. A moan catches in Saul's throat, because Jesse's hand is hot around his dick. He swears into the space between them, clutching at the hard muscle of Jesse's thigh to keep him grounded. Jesse grabs the bottle and spurts out a glob of lube into his palm. Saul's skin jumps at the shock of sudden cold, but it doesn't matter because Jesse's stroking and squeezing him in a way that's doing things to Saul's good judgement. Jesse rises up on his knees, and, holy fucking God, Jesse's absolutely going to ride him.

Saul doesn't even know what to do with that. He catches the weight of him when Jesse sinks upon his cock, spine shuddering as Jesse takes him in, tight and wet and hot around him. Saul shudders, hooks his legs over the seats in front of him for leverage, because he knows he's not going to be able to resist fucking into Jesse at some point. Jesse moans low in his throat and squeezes Saul's shoulders when he's sheathed to the hilt. Saul takes in the sight of Jesse flushed and eager. Jesse wets his lips, and Saul feels something burn and blaze low in his gut.

Jesse's new at this, so Saul lets him set the pace and just runs his fingers over Jesse's skin. Saul's usually pretty fast in bed, eager to blow his load and leave, but with Jesse everything's different. He wants this to last as long as it can, because being inside of Jesse is something to be savored like a fine wine, and Jesse's moans make him feel saintly.

While Jesse climbs and falls on his cock, Saul's hands are busy clutching at Jesse's back and tracing the curve of his spine. Saul loves the way their bodies fit together, the rough grate of stubble against his jaw when Jesse kisses him, the way Jesse moans when Saul shoves into him. It's frantic at first, but Saul manages to blend his thrusts into the slow rock and shift of Jesse's hips, then they're moving in tandem, catching each other's mouths in between short huffs of air.

Saul rolls his hips in a way that makes Jesse tip his head back and groan, low and gasping. "Right there?" Saul murmurs into the curve of Jesse's neck, tongue dipping in the hollow of his throat.

"Fuck yes," Jesse breathes out, nails dragging over the back of Saul's neck. He grinds into Saul's next thrust and shudders out, "God, don't stop..."

There's no way they're stopping; Saul's too intoxicated on the heat between them to even think about that. It fills up the car like a tangible thing, a sharp electrical shiver over his skin. Jesse rides him like a fucking champ, crashing and burning in a perfect rotation. "Saul," he chokes out, overwhelmed and needy, and he moves faster, desperate to fall over the edge.

Jesse's gasping broken little sounds as his tattooed arm blindly grasps at Saul's hand clenched around his hip, clasping their fingers together. Saul knows Jesse's close; he can feel the fierce grip of Jesse's inner walls twitching and clenching around his dick, milking him mercilessly, and, oh God, oh fuck, that's it, he can't take anymore. Saul breaks apart inside of Jesse, filling him up, and he thinks he might die, because it's warm and dizzying and too much at once.

He twists and grinds up into Jesse, trying to wring out as much of his orgasm as he can, and Jesse makes a heavenly sound of release when he comes, hand squeezing Saul's fingers tight as it all shakes out of him. Jesse keeps moving on Saul's cock in jolting pushes. Saul drops his head back against the seat and listens to the wet drag of skin, the desperate little noises Jesse's making in his throat as he comes down from it all. His orgasm leaves his stomach painted wet and his cheeks pinked, and, God, Saul has never seen anything more fucking beautiful.

Jesse's still shaking when he looks down at Saul with half-lidded eyes, his mouth quirked into a lazy half-smile. "That was awesome," he breathes out, his voice like aural whiskey. "Totally worth the drive."

Saul's fingers chase the tattoo crawling up Jesse's arm. "Don't give me too much credit; you did most of the work."

Jesse laughs and leans in, kissing him savagely. Saul lets his hands spread over the sweep of Jesse's shoulders. His skin is hot under the touch. It's moments like these where Saul wants to do something more for the kid, just drive until they're far enough away from Walter White and Gus Fring and  _everything_ to start anew. God knows Jesse could use a fresh start, and Saul's no saint himself.

But Heisenberg is a ball and chain around Jesse's ankles, and it seems like it's all Saul can do to keep the kid from drowning.

"Do you always fuck me when you're pissed at him?" It comes out harsher than Saul intended, because if he's being used as an outlet for Jesse's frustration, like some sort of dildo with feelings, then he needs to know about it.

Jesse hears the accusation there, and his smile wilts on his face. It's painful to watch. "N—no, that's not—do you really think that's what I'm doing?"

"I don't care if you are," Saul says, playing casual like his life depends on it, "I just wanna know before it's too late."

"That's cryptic." When Saul doesn't answer, Jesse bites his lips together like he's thinking. "Look, okay, yeah, sometimes I get pissed off at Mr. White and have angry sex with you. Not all the time. Just—just sometimes. Because you're my boyfriend, and, Jesus, it's not like that's the only reason I do it. You're amazing, dude. I'm crazy about you."

Saul hadn't realized how much he needed to hear that until it's out there.

"I don't need a reason to want your dick, alright? But if you don't—if you didn't want to..." Jesse drops his gaze and wets his mouth, trying to find the right words. "God, please don't let me be, like, pressuring you. If you don't want me to do something, just say the word and I'll stop. I swear to God. I never wanna make you feel...like  _this_."

Saul tilts his head. "I don't know, that was a pretty fantastic orgasm. One of your best. Ten out of ten. Would come again."

Jesse huffs a laugh, because he knows Saul well enough to know that was absolutely a double entendre. "C'mon, for real."

"You're not pressuring me into anything, Jesse," Saul says, and he can feel the tense line of Jesse's body relax under the words. He skims a hand along Jesse's spine. "If I didn't want you, I wouldn't have let you drive me all the way out here without telling me where we're going. The last time you did this there was a lot less amicability involved."

It takes Jesse a moment to remember what Saul's talking about. He does that squinty thing again while he's thinking. "Oh my God," he chuckles out. "That's all on Mr. White, yo. I was an unwilling accomplice."

"I distinctly remember you doing most of the talking, kiddo. And, y'know, pointing a gun in my face. That was the most confused erection I've ever had in my life."

Jesse snorts a graceless sound of laughter. "So you sayin' I should've blindfolded you?"

Saul grins, because, yeah, he's a kinky bastard. "Next time." He drapes his tie around Jesse's neck and uses the ends to reel him in for a kiss. Jesse licks his way into Saul's mouth, his hands on either side of Saul's face. Saul savors Jesse's simple adoration; he can't think of anyone else he'd rather have sweaty car-sex with in the middle of the damn desert.


End file.
